Your Mileage May Vary

A man went to his ophthalmologist for his routine check. Soon the receptionist invited him into the clinical area.

The nurse faced the man toward a chart some distance away and covered one eye.

"Hi, I'm Abby. Please read the top letter, sir," she asked.

"Oh, that's an 'E,' but we can start lower. My vision's pretty good."

"How good? Like, line 11?"

"Oh, even better than that. How 'bout line 100."

"Oh, it doesn't go that far," she laughed.

"Too bad. 'Cause I could, if it did."

"Why don't you just read the smallest line you can," she suggested.

"OK," he said. "Lemme see, um..."

"Take your time, sir."

"Yea, um, I see all the way down to your future."

"I beg your pardon, sir?" she said, confused.

"Well, once I get past the actual atoms, other views come into focus."

"I don't know what you mean. Should I go get the doctor?"

"If you want, sure," he answered. "Just watch that carpet."

She left the hallway where the vision chart was but, within a few steps, tripped over a piece of rumpled carpet, shrieking. The man ran to help her, but she recoiled, wild-eyed.

"Don't touch me!" she hollered. "You're the devil!"

At this point the ophthalmologist arrived and offered his hand to help her up. "Abby, what's this all about?"

"This man can read the future on the vision chart!" she shouted hysterically.

"Actually," the man said, "it's not from the chart, although, if you kept making the lines smaller, I suppose I could read down to line one thousand or so. Maybe one million. Maybe more, even."

"Is that so," the doctor said.

"Wanna know how long you're gonna live?" he asked.

"Sure," he patronized him.

"Let's see... focus... past the atoms, past the quarks... you, sir, are going to live for some time to come."

"That's good," the doctor laughed. "Now let's go into the exam room and get started."

"We don't have that much time, Doc."

"I'm sorry," the doctor said, then clutched his chest and collapsed.

"You said for some time!" Abby cried when the EMS "called" it.

"No one ever reads the fine print, Abby," the man confessed.